Taking Steps Is Easy (Standing Still Is Hard)
by unoriginalrhombus
Summary: "Best friends are tricky things b/c Quinn went all in w/the assumption that their friendship would last forever due to loyalty, love, etc. Only for their friendship to be torn apart by something as simple as someone else. Someone who isn't Quinn. And maybe that's why it gets to her, maybe that's why it hurts, maybe that's why she cares, b/c none of it is Quinn." Quinntana-soulmates
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hey ya'll! I owe you a lot of things, this I know. It's an incredibly long story but I've had a few surgeries since June and it sucks because I'm always tired, but hopefully this is me turning around. I do have some things ready and I want you to know that I WILL get around to posting them. No story will end up incomplete, I just need to get back to where I was and right now I'm pretty much always tired. Anyway, I hope to have things for you in the coming weeks but I can't make any for sure promises, just know I haven't given up! Also, this is for all of you who read/review/like/follow/love any of the stories that I write, and for those that are holding out for some updates/new ones (I haven't forgotten about the requests guys, so please don't give up on me! I will get there!)_

_A/N 2: Um, this first chapter is mostly Quinn centric, the next few will delve a little bit more into the Quinntana debacle and how it continues. Certain parts might feel glossed over, I did that intentionally because I feel like that's how Quinn would deal with things. Acknowledging them but not giving them further thought. Anyway, please read and review and enjoy! I only have plans for this to be a few chapters long. Please don't panic, haha, I know I have a lot of stories. _

* * *

**PART ONE**

**(All I Know Since Yesterday Is Everything Has Changed)**

Her Grandma Lucy used to tell her the same story every night before bed when she was little-long before Quinn was cynical and long before her Grandmother's dementia took everything away that had made her _great_.

"Listen here, Lucy," her grandma would start, her eyes peering over her glasses. "This isn't a story for the faint of heart. It's only a story for the brave."

Quinn, with her footie pajamas and her brave six year old heart would always puff out her chest at this part, because she believed that she was the bravest of them all. She was especially more brave than Frannie-Frannie, who was afraid to squish a bug or have a boy not like her back. Frannie, who was fourteen and scared of everything Quinn wasn't.

"I'm brave!" She would shout.

Her grandmother would smile and tuck her in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ah, but are you brave enough for love?"

At this, Quinn would always frown. She made mud pies for her daddy and she wore those stupid dresses to church for her mommy and she even kept Frannie's hidden diary spot a secret. She ate all her vegetables and held her grandma's hand when crossing the street-even though she really didn't need help anymore because she was a big girl. She cleaned her room and listened to her parents and kissed them goodnight. To her, _that_ was love, and it required no bravery. It was as easy as breathing.

"Of course," Quinn would huff out, upset that her grandma would ever assume that she wouldn't be.

Grandma Lucy would smile and nod, and Quinn would always remember why she really loved her.

"_Well," _Grandma Lucy would say, "_Everyone has this clock that's counting down to the moment when you meet your soul mate. Sometimes you meet them, sometimes you keep them, and sometimes you let them go."_

* * *

**(THIS IS HOW IT WORKS)**

They meet when Quinn is ten.

Quinn is a little chubby and a lot of quiet, the bravery that used to flow so freely through her veins has been shrouded with fear and expectations. She doesn't want an adventure or bravery anymore, she just wants to be the girl her parents want her to be, and that includes getting to her ballet class on _time_.

There was nobody to blame but herself, she had gotten caught up in a pastime of Lucy's (stopping to smell the roses, and watch the people, and look at the world) and she hadn't realized how late it was until the class bell was ringing. It was fitting in a sense because Lucy was always late to the party, even if the party was just a dance rehearsal that she didn't really want to be at anyway.

But she's here and she's going to make an effort because her parents want her to, and she doesn't want to disappoint them. Not when her dad's been spending more and more time at work and not when her mom keeps having "extra" glasses of wine, and not while her grandmother is having a hard time remembering who she is and not while Quinn is having a hard time remembering the things that made Quinn love her.

Quinn shakes her head because she doesn't want to think about things that make her sad, it's too hard, so instead she rushes through the corridors, her flats sliding all over the newly waxed floor.

She's running so quickly and moving so carelessly that Quinn doesn't see any sign of Santana Lopez until she's tripping over a discarded backpack and falling clumsily in a way that Lucy was all too good at.

She hesitates once she hits the ground, because even though Lucy was good at falling, she was never particularly skilled at getting back up, and Quinn has to grasp her bearings before she can remind herself how to do it.

Quinn peers up at the only other person in the hallway, mostly out of curiosity and partly out of blame. If her eyes could spell accusation, she'd be spelling it out in spades. Whatever that means.

When her eyes focus on the girl a few feet away from her, a part of Quinn wants to laugh. She recognizes Santana. She recognizes Santana like children recall memories: messily and with a strange amount of accuracy.

Santana Lopez at ten is about as terrifying as a baby chihuahua. It helps that Quinn has seen her around since preschool-Lima likes to pretend that it has all the possibilities of an actual city, but it really is just a small country town. It's hard to be scared of someone who used to cry every time they were forced to eat jello.

Santana's different now, Quinn notices. She wonders, briefly, if Santana is different in the way that Quinn is now, too.

Quinn ignores the thought and continues to stare openly at Santana. She's not intimidating like her older brother and she's not the same little girl who used to cry over snack time. Instead, Santana Lopez at ten is awkward looking and has too many hard angles that are covered up by too baggy of clothes.

She doesn't look like trouble-not at first glance- or anything that Quinn shouldn't associate with. But upon closer inspection there's this noticeable glint in her eyes that screams mischievous, and when Quinn squints, it's easy to see how much Santana is like her older brother.

Santana doesn't apologize, she just looks at Quinn like she should have known better than to be running through the halls-which, she did, she totally did, and she would have apologized for not being more careful if Lucy wasn't disappearing as quickly as her baby fat.

A part of her wants to resort to old tendencies because Lucy wasn't good at many things, but she was smart and she was curious and she sometimes did things she wasn't supposed to. Lucy was brave and Quinn...Quinn is good at following orders.

Things are different now, Quinn thinks. Dad's stop paying attention, Mom's don't ask you how your day is and Grandma's grow up to forget who you are, there's no time for Lucy in a world that relies on self efficiency.

There's no time to love or challenge or think when you could be _succeeding._

So Quinn stands and brushes herself off (the way that she imagines Lucy wouldn't ever do). She contemplates what she should do next because Lucy was never very good at making friends and Quinn never quite knew what to say, so instead of saying anything Quinn just pulled her face into a sneer (exactly like how Frannie had taught her) and directed it towards Santana.

Santana grabs her backpack of the floor without acknowledging Quinn's sneer and puts her arms through the straps. Santana narrows her eyes when Quinn continues to sneer, her body unmoving.

"Are you retarded or something?" Santana asks, her question brash and offensive.

Quinn rears her head back, her whole body in _awe_ that somebody her own age would ever dare utter words so harsh. She's never seen a sentence like that met with anything other than soap and it's kind of a surprise when an adult _doesn't _appear out from a classroom, a frown on their face and a punishment in their hands.

"No," Quinn answers after a few moments of silence.

Santana shrugs, her hands waving away Quinn's response. "Then do you want to help?"

Santana's pointing at this glass case that's to Quinn's right. It's full of photos of old ballet dancers and ballet classes and she can't help but be a little curious as to what Santana needs help with. Especially when said help involves the glass case that holds some of her older sisters awards. Quinn had recognized it immediately because Frannie used to always point it out.

This is where things get tricky because Quinn isn't the type of girl to run afoul with a complete stranger. She's not the type of girl to do anything, really, not anymore. She's not even sure what Santana's up to exactly but she knows it can't be good, she can tell from the way that Santana is looking at her, as though she's imploring her quietly to just _take a chance_.

Quinn looks away because she can't handle it. It's a curse from Lucy, heavy gazes make her uncomfortable. So instead she focuses her attention on the glass display case. Quinn can see Frannie's perfect face and her perfect smile (relating to her perfect, uneventful life), even from where she's standing, and in a split second she decides that whatever _this_ is going to be, it'll worth it.

"Okay."

* * *

Quinn has been best friends with Santana Lopez for as long as she can remember.

(well, five years, actually. But often that felt like a _lifetime.)_

What started as an impromptu hangout all those years ago blossomed into a full grown friendship. Her father had been furious all those years ago when he heard how she had skipped ballet class (the thing he assumed would make Quinn better) to hang out with some girl who had more of a mouth than she had kindness.

Then he found out who Santana's father was, and everything changed.

Santana's father was the _only_ plastic surgeon around for miles. He was wealthy and sought after and his social circle was something Russell could never get into, not even on his best day.

During those first few years Quinn often felt like a pawn in her father's game of chess. He used her, he moved her, and eventually he conquered what he needed to. It didn't change her friendship with Santana but it did change her relationship with her father, something that he has been able to unchange since.

Things are pretty much the same. Well, except for when they're not.

Santana isn't the awkward girl with weird angles anymore. She's filled out in a way that makes all the boys at McKinley go crazy. She's still mischievous, but she's also talented and good at math.

Quinn isn't anything like the girl she was when she was ten, at least not physically. Somewhere between thirteen and now she grew six inches, her hair lightened, she got contacts, and her appearance started being called _timeless_ instead of just being a waste of time.

Quinn thinks about it sometimes, when she's not stuck at another insane Cheerios practice or lounging around at Santana's. She thinks about how weird it is to start one place and end up somewhere completely else. She's grateful, though, because she thinks that there's a lot of things that could have gone differently and if they had, maybe Quinn wouldn't have made it out alive.

They've changed because they've aged, but the important things, the things that will matter until forever, those haven't.

They still love each other fiercely. They still spend as much time as they possibly can together. They're still best friends, even in the ways that don't always count.

Santana is still the brash girl Quinn met when she was ten. She's still brave and rude and a handful, and she still protects Quinn like she's made of glass. She still goes on adventures and sometimes she'll even make Quinn come, too.

**(CHEERIOS.)**

Quinn is still quiet and calculating, the only difference is now those things work in her favor. She's cold to everyone but Santana and she spends more time ignoring her empty house than she spends talking to her parents.

Their dynamic works because they love each other and that's the only thing they really need to succeed.

Quinn still goes to visit her grandma every Saturday, even though it rarely helps. She goes to visit and she retells the stories her grandma used to tell her all those years ago, a part of her hoping that they'll both find something they lost along the way. Sometimes it works, sometimes her grandma calls her Judy, and sometimes Quinn just thinks about how some things change in the worst way.

Afterwards, she always hopes that her and Santana don't change in the worst ways because her relationship with Santana is the sanest thing she has, and she just might drown in this ocean of life if she doesn't have at least one buoy to hang on to.

The truth is: everything else in Quinn's life is complicated, to this day, but whenever Santana's around...she just has a way of un-complicating things. The truth is that when Quinn pivots right, Santana always pivots with her, and everything just fits so well and runs so smooth that Quinn can't help but feel like they were always meant to be together somehow.

* * *

The summer before their Junior year is when things start to change. Not outrageously or even in a way that makes sense. Quinn just...feels different and she can't figure out why.

They're lying down near Santana's pool, their bathing suits skimpy and their skin glistening from the heat, when Quinn first feels like something is shifting.

Santana has this tiny, black, Calvin Klein two-piece on and has these enormous coach shades and her hair is up in a bun. She looks like a model, is Quinn's thought, because Santana is the prettiest girl around. It's a fact more than it's a nice gesture.

Santana turns around so that her stomach and chest are facing the sun, her arm covering her eyes. Quinn just continues to watch her, just like always, curious as to what Santana will do next.

Santana sighs in an extravagant way, like lying there is taking too much effort. "Puckerman asked me out."

Curious, Quinn sits up, her gaze solely focused on Santana now. "Really?"

Santana tilts her head to the side so that she's peering up at Quinn. "Yeah."

Quinn had never thought about it before because the subject had honestly never come up. Santana rarely expressed an interest in the boys at McKinley and even though Quinn had always thought i was odd, she had always liked it that way. She enjoyed being the only priority of Santana, and maybe that made Quinn selfish or weird, but whatever. She wasn't one to be particular with things, but she was always particular with Santana.

Quinn let's out a short, foolish laugh. "What did he say when you told him no?"

Santana, ever the mystery, looked away. "I didn't."

_(This is when things get weird.)_

Quinn, who always tried to be understanding with Santana, couldn't wrap her head around such a decision. It was weird because this possessive feeling found it's way to her heart and all she could think about was that Puckerman was a stupid boy with an ugly haircut and no future, and there was no way she was sharing Santana with him.

Her thoughts were alarming and new and Quinn had to look out at the pool to keep Santana from seeing her panic.

Santana knew, though, that something was different. They had been friends too long for her to _not_ know. It made Quinn nervous because she wasn't even certain what was happening and she couldn't handle Santana seeing what Quinn wasn't even aware of until now.

Her heart ached in a way she didn't understand, in the way it used to ache when her parents would leave for long periods of time. In the way hearts ache when they're being left behind and forgotten.

Quinn is so caught up in her thoughts that she doesn't see Santana move, she doesn't even register that Santana is still present until Santana sits down next to her.

"Hey," Santana says softly, her shoulder bumping Quinn's. "This doesn't change anything."

'Liar', Quinn wants to say, because everything has already changed, Santana just can't see what Quinn is finally catching a glimpse of. So instead she says nothing.

Santana grabs Quinn's left hand and intertwined their fingers. "You'll still be my number one, okay?"

Quinn knows that Santana is trying to comfort her but Santana's statement makes her feel uneasy instead. The fact that Santana has to even say these things in the first place, that she says them to Quinn as seriously as a boy would say to a girl, proves that something has been different between them all along and Quinn is only now noticing it.

She wants to hold in her disappointment and be happy for Santana, but she's a selfish sixteen year old girl. She wants what she wants, and that's just how things go sometimes.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Quinn says, as she disentangles their hands.

Santana, to her credit, only looks hurt for a moment. She stands up quickly and pulls the shades off her face before throwing them down onto the pool chair. Quinn crosses her arms because she knows when a battle is coming and she's not willing to give up so easily.

Santana doesn't say anything. She just kneels down in front of Quinn and wraps her arms around Quinn's waist before placing a soft kiss right above Quinn's belly button.

Quinn can't help it when her hands cautiously separate and lower themselves down to Santana's hair. She can't help it when her hands pull Santana's hair out of its bun and start combing through her hair so softly that it makes Santana sigh. She can't help any of these things, just like she can't help the sudden onset of emotions based on the fact that this whole situation is _different_.

It starts coming to her in spades, then. Things like the fact that they still share Santana's twin bed every night even though they're both too grown to fit into it comfortably. Or like the fact that Santana leaves her voice mails every few weeks, sometimes with songs other times with her love and encouragement. Or like the fact that they have showered together, just not in that way, but _still_.

It hits her then how whenever Quinn thinks about the future, it always revolves around Santana and her and what they'll be doing _together_. It feels like this was inevitable and it bugs her because she doesn't know how she didn't see this before.

Santana stirs briefly below her before placing another gentle kiss on Quinn's now flat stomach, and all Quinn wants to do is cry for all the things she has, all the things she won't, and all the things Santana has taken from her (along with the things Quinn's freely given).

It goes to show that Santana always has to be the best at everything because while Quinn was learning what made Santana tick, Santana was busy stealing her heart.

* * *

Quinn goes to visit her grandma that weekend-two weeks before school starts.

Sheryl (the front desk receptionist) smiles warmly when Quinn crosses through the automatic double doors. It's been years since grandma Lucy had been admitted to this home, and years since Quinn had started coming alone, and even though lots of things have changed in that time, Sheryl hasn't.

Sometimes Quinn wonders if it's because Sheryl loves her job or if it's because she can't afford to leave or even if it's because she's comfortable. Whatever Sheryl's reasoning is, Quinn finds it pointless, because she likes having a familiar face in a place that feels so unknown.

Sheryl doesn't make her check in, not anymore, she just waves her through with a smile and a wink, like she knows both things are what Quinn really needs right now.

* * *

Quinn's grandma is on the sixth floor, along with all the other patients who suffer from mental illnesses. It's a floor that has more nurses and more security. She smiles at the security officer guarding the door and walks the familiar route to her grandma's room.

She isn't really sure why she comes here anymore, especially when her mother, father, and Frannie stopped, but she's here anyway. She thinks it has to do with the fact that she's not ready to let go and Santana thinks it's because Quinn just wants to understand _why_ it was her grandma of all people who had to forget.

Maybe it's both those things.

Quinn stops outside of her grandmother's room and runs her fingers over her dress. Her grandma's door is open, like always, and Quinn likes to think it is because she is always inviting others in.

Quinn inhales a huge breath of air and squares her shoulders. She takes a few steps in, knocks on the door, and walks the rest of the way until she's standing in front of her grandma's bed.

Her grandma is lying in bed, her eyes focused on the view outside the window. Her grandma is a tiny woman, with curious hazel eyes and white hair (that used to be the brightest blonde). She has more wrinkles and liver spots than this building has patients, but they only make her look more kind. If there was ever a woman suited for aging, it is her grandma.

Quinn glances in the direction her grandma was looking. The sun is shining and the birds are singing, but there is hardly anything else worth watching out there. Although, Quinn was pretty sure that wasn't the point.

_(Isn't that why the caged bird sings?)_

Quinn clears her throat to draw her grandma's attention. It works because her grandma peers at Quinn, her eyes shining in acknowledgement, and for a second Quinn almost thinks that today will be _easy_.

"Judy?" Her grandma asks, her hands clasped together on her lap.

Quinn shakes her head softly, disappointment making her shoulders drop. "No, grandma Lucy. It's Quinn."

Her grandma makes a pained expression and looks towards the door like she was expecting someone else to come in. "Quinn." Her grandmother says, her face frowning when she said her name, as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. "What a strange name." Her grandma stared at her for a minute as if she was settling on something involving Quinn. "I like that."

Quinn shrugs, worry starting to creep into the corners of her mind. "Thank you."

Her grandma nods, a grin on her face. She frowned after a minute. "You sure do look a lot like my Judy. How do you know her again?"

Quinn's face fell. Honestly, she had no idea why she kept coming to these visits and who the visits were truly for. Herself or her grandmother. "I don't."

Her grandmother sighed and looked back outside the window, clearly tired. Quinn was too, it was draining, this dance they always did. In the end, Quinn always caved, because it was nicer to be somebody that her grandmother knew then it was to be nobody at all.

"Judy?" Her grandma called out after a few minutes. Her eyes were confused and her lower lip was quivering.

Quinn smiles softly and takes the seat right next to her grandma's bed. She grasps her grandmother's hand and does her best to sound gentle. "Yes, it's me."

"I knew you would come back," her grandma says confidently. "I just knew it."

"Yeah," Quinn agrees. "You did."

"Judy, do you remember what I used to tell you about love?"

Quinn's heart swells in a way that reminds her of her childhood. It's nice that some things don't disappear along with the others.

"You said it was an awfully big adventure."

* * *

She leaves after a few hours with a promise to come back next weekend. Even though her grandma won't remember, it makes Quinn feel better to say the words out loud. Like they're more true and likely to happen if someone else hears them.

She's in the parking lot when her phone rings. She assumes it's Santana because more often than not, it _is_. She pushes the talk button and puts the phone to her ear, her voice already excited and playful.

"What's up, sugar lump?"

"Wow," a nasally voice filters through. "You have never sounded so excited to speak to me."

Quinn doesn't need to look at the caller id to know who it is. Instead she rolls her eyes and unlocks the door to her car. "What do you want, Frannie?"

"Ouch," Frannie says, her voice light. "Can't a sister call for absolutely no reason at all except to see how her baby sis is doing?"

Quinn slid into the car, her hands twitching to end the call. "One: that is a reason. Two: you never do that."

Frannie sighs. "I wanted to congratulate you on getting co-captain."

"Really?"

"Really," Frannie reiterates. "I mean, it's no head captain, but at least it's something the scouts at Tennessee State will look at."

"Santana thinks I can get into NYU, maybe even Yale."

Frannie laughs obnoxiously loud. "So you're just going to follow that girl around for forever? You need to separate yourself, Quinn, this relationship isn't healthy and it won't last forever. Tennessee State is a great school and you would do well there, by _yourself_."

"Who even says I want to go to Tennessee State? It's just like another version of crappy McKinley," Quinn spits out.

"Watch it," Frannie warns. "I went there."

"Which of course means I'll have to do it, too, even though we both know I'll never measure up to perfect Frannie."

"Quinn," Frannie says softly.

"No," Quinn interrupts. "We both know that's what dad wants and we both know that's what mom's thinking. _You_ graduated at the top of your class, _you_ were cheerios captain for three years and won three national championships, _you_ got a full ride to Tennessee State and graduated with honors. _You _married your college sweetheart and live in an awesome country town where you'll have awesome country kids, and I'm just Quinn. But maybe I like being just Quinn, okay? And maybe I like thinking that one day I'm going to make farther than you ever did." By the time Quinn's done, her chest is heaving and her hand is gripping the steering wheel exceptionally tight. She closes her eyes and does her best to calm herself, Frannie is eight years older and Quinn has absolutely no right to speak to her this way. "Sorry," Quinn mutters, before adding as an afterthought, "I've just got done visiting grandma and she kept calling me Judy the whole time. I'm just..."

"Quinn," Frannie grunts in frustration. "I just want what's best for you, okay? These past few months..." Quinn freezes when she thinks she hears Frannie sob. "These past few months I've just been thinking about what a horrible sister I've been to you, especially with mom and dad, especially when you needed me. I want to change things between us, Quinn, because we really only have each other."

"Frannie?" Quinn calls out, worry lacing her voice. "What's going on?"

"John and I are getting a divorce."

* * *

The day of Quinn's sixteenth birthday is an uneventful one. Frannie didn't come home, mostly because she wasn't allowed. Their father...he was tiffed beyond measure at the news of Frannie's divorce. He called Frannie selfish and horrible and all the names a father should never call his daughter, all because Frannie had decided she didn't want to be married anymore.

It turns out that Frannie didn't enjoy being married or living in Tennessee. It turns out that Frannie met this italian guy named Marco and she wanted to go see Europe with him, and she wanted to teach English to students in other countries. Frannie didn't want to be a wife or a mother or any of the things that Judy was.

It was nice in a way because her parents image of perfection had finally been torn down. But it also sucked, because even though perfect Frannie was doing something imperfect, she was still doing it before Quinn and she was doing it perfectly. She was going to _Europe_ to teach English to students. She was _living_ in a way that far outweighed anything Quinn could ever do. Frannie outshine her again, even when she was messing up.

Overall, her birthday was a depressing affair. It was two days before school started so Santana was busy shopping with her parents and Quinn's parents were busy yelling and getting drunk-which, really, isn't different from any other day.

So instead of wallowing in the despair that is her life, Quinn swipes her dad's emergency credit card and buys a whole bunch of only books for her kindle. She orders some songs, some stockings, and even a fake Harry Potter Hogwarts award letter. It could be worse, so she settles down around midnight and uploads the new Game of Thrones book, hoping to end her night a better way than it started, when she hears something hit her window.

It's pointless because Quinn knows her parents are already passed out, so there's really no reason to be so sneaky. Still, Quinn's curious so she heads to the window and opens it. She almost laughs in surprise when she sees Santana standing on her lawn, a rose in her left hand and a boombox in the other.

"Are you going to stand there all night looking pretty, Fabray? Or am I going to have to bust a move here and get this thing going?" Santana asks, her hand lifting the boombox.

Quinn shakes her head and closes the window before bolting out of her room and running down the stairs. She opens the door quickly and wastes no time with enveloping Santana in a hug. "I thought you were with Puck tonight?" Quinn whispers into Santana's neck.

"I told you," Santana says as her arms circle around Quinn's waist. "You'll always be my number one."

* * *

They kiss a few months later because Quinn is sixteen and a half and because Santana is looking out for her.

At least, that's what Santana says after her lips touch Quinn's.

The day leading up to it starts off weird enough because Finn Hudson goes through this huge ordeal to ask Quinn out and Quinn decides to say yes. She's tired of looking down the hall and watching Puck shove his tongue down Santana's throat with little class or care. At least this way she would actually get to be around Santana more, and she wouldn't feel like the third wheel.

Santana isn't pleased when she finds out and it only serves to make Quinn more confused. The past year has been a whirlwind of things and Quinn hasn't had time to focus on whatever changed between Santana and her during the summer, or to see if Santana felt it too. Santana says it's because she doesn't want Quinn's first kiss to be with Finn 'man boobs' Hudson, she says it's because she wants Quinn to have an actual experience that she'll enjoy remembering years later.

It happens just as quickly as any other moment that has the tendency to change ones life: unexpectedly quick, until further thought and recognition.

Quinn doesn't really think anything of it. She's more caught off guard than she is worried about it because she trusts Santana with her life and Santana wouldn't do something unless it was necessary. She doesn't have many friends so she Isn't certain if this the norm, but she is certain that when Santana's lips brush hesitantly against hers _again_, everything else just sort of fades away.

It's cliche, but when Santana's lips touch hers the second time, Quinn forgets about empty dinner tables and about fathers who are never pleased. She forgets about countless wine bottles and grandmothers who keep calling her Judy.

She just forgets and it's nice and she thinks that sometimes it's just easier to forget than it is to remember.

* * *

It isn't until hours later when her lips are tingling that Quinn decides she's lucky to have Santana in her life, even if she's Quinn's only real friend.

Her mother had tons and tons of half friends. The type of friends who filled her time between boredom and plans, youth and adulthood, this and that. Friends that don't have longevity or compassion but they have _time_. And now that Quinn thinks about it, her mom really only ended up alone.

So Quinn takes solace in the fact that she has one good-nay, one great- friend. Santana feels like her one redemption in this shithole of a town and even though she makes Quinn confused, even though Quinn doesn't really understand what's happening, she feels insanely lucky to have her.

* * *

They kiss frequently over the next few months, and with more intent. Santana keeps saying that she's just trying to prepare Quinn, that she just wants Quinn to be safe and okay, and that Santana is still with Puck and that these kisses don't mean anything. Santana says that it's practice or how to make a guy feel good.

But then Santana pushes Quinn against the bathroom stall and kisses her breath away, until there's no more air in Quinn's lungs and the only thing she can breathe and feel and see is Santana.

It doesn't feel like practice, Quinn thinks, it only feels like love.

* * *

"I don't get it," Quinn says one day, "why can't you just break up with Puck. I mean, you don't even like him."

They're in Santana's room cooling off after a rough Cheerio's practice when Quinn brings it up. She's tired of making out behind closed doors while Puck gets to kiss Santana whenever he wants. She's treading dangerous territory, she knows that, but it's getting harder and harder to not claim what she feels like is hers.

Santana stared at Quinn seriously before rolling her eyes. "He's good in bed."

"Oh," Quinn says, as if that answers everything. "Okay."

* * *

"Santana?" Quinn asks after a particularly heavy make-out session. Quinn's in her bra and cheerio skirt and Santana's still fully dressed, her hair is in a sloppy ponytail though and she looks happy.

It's times like these where Quinn thinks she could do this forever, be _here_ forever.

She watched as her mother took less than what she deserved and resigned herself to a life that clearly made her unhappy, just because she was terrified of being alone. Quinn didn't really get it until now, because even if she has to keep whatever this is a secret, even if she doesn't know what's happening between them and even if Santana never tells her, she could spend the rest of her life here...as long as Santana looked that way forever.

"Yeah?" Santana asks, her voice husky in a way that makes Quinn's stomach clench.

Quinn wants to say _it_. She wants to say what's been on the tip of her tongue since the day last summer, even before she knew what it was. She wants to say it but she can't bring herself to spill the words.

Quinn learned life lessons in the silence after alcohol. Regardless of her fathers selfish ways and her mother's alcoholic tendencies, Quinn often pardoned them, because they were kids once too. She likes to believe that they weren't always like they were now.

She wants Santana to pardon her, too, for saying what it is she wants to say. But she doesn't think Santana will, so instead Quinn smiles mischievously and removes her bra top because at least that's a language that Santana will understand.

"Come here and kiss me."

Quinn isn't anything other than thrilled when Santana obliges.

* * *

_It_ happens a few weeks later because Santana is nestled between her legs and they both don't have tops on and Quinn just can't take it anymore. She doesn't care if it's practice or fucking, as long as Santana's touching her where it counts.

"Touch me," Quinn demands when Santana's teeth nip against her neck. "_Now._"

Santana lifts her head up so that she can see Quinn's face. Santana's cheeks are red and her skin is literally glowing and Quinn just wants all of her, everywhere.

Santana licks her lips and kisses Quinn's forehead. "You're so beautiful."

"Okay," Quinn says, not really caring.

"No," Santana disagrees. She frowns and looks away, like she can't say it if she knows Quinn is looking at her. "Listen. You're...perfect. To me. You always have been."

Quinn's heart doesn't melt, it seizes and completely stops, only for it to start pumping in a completely different way.

When Santana touches her, her skin doesn't burn or tingle or do any of those things that girls always talk about. Instead, when Santana's fingers touch Quinn, she feels _alive_. And when Santana's finger pushes inside of Quinn, it's hard for Quinn not to clench down to keep it there forever-to keep her dreams and desires, to keep Santana forever.

Santana continues to touch Quinn because she says it's better this way, Quinn let's Santana touch her because she's curious. But mostly because she can't imagine _not_ giving all of herself to Santana.

Santana's always been a storm to be reckoned with and Quinn has always been perfectly fine with getting swept up in her.

Santana pushed another finger inside of Quinn and this time she does clench, because it hurts at the same time that it feels good, and she doesn't really know what to do anymore. This is crossing lines and crossing barriers and Quinn just doesn't know, she just doesn't know anymore.

Santana exhales shakily. "You okay?"

Quinn nods. She's uncomfortable, but she's okay.

Santana licks her lips. "I'm gonna move your leg over my shoulder, okay? It'll feel better."

Quinn nods again as Santana lifts her right leg to give her fingers better access. It's awkward and probably not as sexy as it could be, but it's okay. Santana leans down and kisses Quinn again as she slowly pulls out her fingers and thrusts them back in, Santana's body moving with her fingers.

Quinn wraps her arms around Santana's shoulders because she doesn't know where else to put them and she doesn't want to look ridiculous, especially if Santana recalls this memory later.

All coherent thoughts go out the window when Santana thrusts again. It feels _good_ and soon Santana is setting a pace that's kinda awkward and kinda sloppy, but that feels way too good to ever stop.

Quinn is making weird noises she never thought she would make. Something between a grunt and a sigh, and she can't physically stop herself when her fingernails dig into Santana's shoulder as she chants, "don't stop, please don't stop."

Santana shook her head and closed her eyes, "never," she whispered. "_Never_."

It's intimate in the only way they haven't been but that's okay because Quinn feels perfect and Santana looks perfect and her fingers are perfect and when she thrusts in particularly hard, Quinn comes apart, and even that's _perfect_.

She doesn't mean to say it or to grab Santana's hand to hold her in place when she tries to pull her fingers out. It's just that Quinn's thoughts are a mess and she keeps thinking about how Frannie was always perfect y herself and Quinn's only ever been perfect with Santana, because she was perfect for Santana, and maybe it makes sense. Maybe it doesn't. All she knows is that she holds Santana in place and whispers, "I love you."

Santana doesn't say anything back. To her benefit, the 'i love you' could have gone either way: as a friend or as a lover. Instead Santana kiss Quinn's neck and pulls her fingers out, her lips trailing down her collarbone to the valley in between her breasts, to her navel, to her pelvic bone, and finally to the place Santana's fingers were just at. It doesn't take Quinn very long to come undone a second time, or a third.

When it's all over and done with and Santana has sated whatever desire she had been overcome with earlier, Santana grabs Quinn and holds her close. Santana's mouth behind Quinn's ear and her legs intertwined with Quinn's.

"I just..." Santana trails off while Quinn is drifting in and out of consciousness, her arm tightening possessively around Quinn's waist. "I just don't want anyone to ever hurt you."

It's clear to Quinn that Santana can't see how she already has.

* * *

The summer before their Senior year, this girl Brittany changes everything.

Quinn isn't even sure how Santana met the blonde before she transferred to McKinley, but she overhears something about a rival glee club. It doesn't make sense though because Santana would tell her about that. They didn't have secrets.

Well, not until Brittany.

It hits her out of nowhere, and hard. She doesn't know much about Brittany, all she knows is that one week Santana is there with her and the next week Santana's dumping Puck and traipsing through the hallways, her pinky linked with Brittany's.

Santana doesn't even warn her, she just looks at Quinn and shrugs, as if it was to be expected. As if they hadn't spent the past three months fucking in every god known place. As if Quinn hadn't just told Santana that she was in love with her, that she wanted Santana, that she _needed_ Santana.

Never mind the fact that she hates Brittany, because she honestly does. Brittany with her quick movements and stupid questions and pretty smile. She doesn't see what drew Santana to such a dumb, useless girl. Brittany tries to be nice to Quinn, tries to invite Quinn out with them, but Quinn can't handle it. She can't watch Santana with Brittany, she can't be around it. So she distances herself.

It hurts, but not because Santana had been deceiving her. It hurts in other ways, worse ways, because Santana's willing to be so open and so free with Brittany in all the ways that she demand Quinn be secretive with her.

They've been each other's number ones for as long as Quinn can remember, so it's really hard to accept the fact that she's now Santana's number two. It doesn't matter what happened or what she did in the following months after Brittany's transfer, because no matter what Quinn did and no matter how hard she tried, she wasn't Santana's first choice anymore.

She's spent so much time planning her future around them being a duo that her mind can't even begin to comprehend that they're more of trio now.

Best friends are tricky things because Quinn went all in with the assumption that their friendship would last forever due to loyalty, love, common denominators, etc. Only for their friendship to be torn apart by something as simple as _someone else_. Someone who isn't Quinn. And maybe that's why it gets to her, maybe that's why it hurts, maybe that's why she cares, Because none of it is Quinn.

Quinn wants to scream at Santana, she wants to yell that Santana had made a promise, but she was too tired. Instead she sat back and waited, hoping that someday soon Santana would find her way back to her.

* * *

The last few months of her Senior year held a few life changing moments for Quinn:

The first being that she got into Yale.

The second being that she met and befriended the wonderful Rachel Berry (who years later, would turn out to be her Godsend).

The third being that Frannie came home.

The fourth and final thing (what led to everything else) was her grandmother's funeral

* * *

Her grandmother passes away three weeks before graduation, and even though Santana is barely around anymore, Quinn still expects her to be there for her.

Santana isn't. Not even on the day of grandma Lucy's funeral.

She sends Quinn a text saying, "_I already promised Britt we'd go to the lake. Sorry."_

It's the last straw in a friendship that has been breaking for months. Quinn needed Santana to be there and Santana just wasn't and Quinn doesn't know how to do any of this without her, but now she's going to have to try.

She doesn't know what do or even what to say to her mother. She's never had to console somebody twice her age. She doesn't know why but that makes it worse, somehow. Like, all the things she could or will say will never be enough for someone who has lived-and seen-more than Quinn's mind could comprehend.

She tries, of course, but her words fall on deaf ears. Her mother just continues to stare blankly ahead and all Quinn can think during the funeral is that it's much better to grieve in private.

So she will. For Santana and for her grandmother.

* * *

Her grandmother used to say that falling in love was the bravest thing you could ever do. Quinn doesn't know if she understands what her grandma meant, because she's been best friends with Santana Lopez for as long as she can remember. And Quinn Fabray has been in love with Santana Lopez for almost as long, she just didn't know it.

_"_Sometimes_ you meet them, sometimes you keep them, and sometimes you let them go."_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Wow! The feedback has been really great so far, I know you probably hate hearing it but I would love to have MORE feedback and MORE reviews! Just to know what you like and don't like. I pretty much have this story wrapped up, mostly because it's just been plaguing me to be written. Um, oh! There is some a lot of subtle Faberry in here, pretty much the half of this story is just Rachel and Quinn. I know a lot of you don't like it but relationships (including friendships) between girls are hard and weird, and sometimes they cross the territory of relationship without meaning to. I really wanted to establish how weird any type of relationship is to Quinn. Anyway, I also intended for Quinn to sound more present in this chapter, so I hope it's noticeable. ONWARD! _

_A/N 2: This thing is a MONSTER. I hope you guys can handle it, let me know if it drags, okay? The next chapter will be mostly Quinntana, trust me, I hope all of you aren't too upset with this._

* * *

**Part Two**

**(The Worst Things In Life Come Free To Us)**

_**3 years later**_

**(THIS IS HOW IT WORKS.)**

Quinn Fabray is _rushing._

That's the only coherent thought that tumbles through Quinn's head as she pushes through another crowd of people to get closer to her destination. New York has never been an easy city-part of the reason she chose to come here was the fact that it would never be easy, because Quinn couldn't respect things that were _easy_-that's for sure, but it's never felt this difficult.

It's _cold_. Colder than Quinn is accustomed to and it makes her bones ache in a way they never used to, at least not before the car accident years ago. She's fine now, better even, but every so often she has to rely on this cane that makes her look twice her age. Quinn doesn't really enjoy relying on anything and she often finds herself staring at her cane like she's waiting for the day it decides to betray her.

Anyway, she's pushing her way through Sixth and Bowery (past all the damn hipsters) and towards her favorite little cafe when she hears a voice she hasn't heard in _years_.

"Quinn?" Someone calls from a few feet behind her. The voice is warm and curious, but it runs Quinn's blood _cold_.

She freezes her movements and tightens the grip on her cane. Pedestrians continue to bump into Quinn and her balance isn't what it used to be, so she leans down on the cane for a little more than just physical support.

"Quinn Fabray?" The voice calls again, this time closer, and it sounds as if the person doesn't believe their own eyes.

She turns around even though she doesn't really want to, because she made a pact years ago (after the accident) that she'd start facing things head on. Especially the hard things. Quinn does her best to make her grimace look like a smile while she turns. She knows there's no use since Rachel has always been an expert at spotting the things that Quinn wants to hide, but she tries anyway.

It's clear when her eyes find Rachel's that she fails, impeccably.

Rachel Berry is standing a few feet away from Quinn and it's odd, but not because Quinn never expected to see her. It's different and a little bit the same, is what it is, it's nostalgia and memory blending effortlessly together. It's strange because Quinn's looking at a girl she used to know everything about and she's realizing she knows nothing about who she is now, not anymore. Time and distance offer changes that Quinn just didn't want to get used to, changes that are hard not to acknowledge when they're standing right before her.

Quinn takes a step forward (mostly because she can't _not_ move, especially when her past is practically staring her in the face) so that she's actually in Rachel's line of sight.

When Rachel's eyes finally squint in recognition everything around Quinn seems to stop. Rachel looks exactly like the girl she was three plus years ago. Her hair is longer and her wardrobe is clearly better, but overall? Rachel is the same girl. She still stands impeccably straight and her eyes are still the warm things they used to be. She still has an air about her, like she's going to make it somewhere and somehow, and it doesn't matter if anyone else believes it.

Quinn believed-believes, Quinn believes it.

Quinn decides to break the brief purgatory they found themselves in and shoots Rachel a small smile. It breaks whatever is holding Rachel back and Rachel smiles without hesitation, her grin so wide that it reaches her ears, and her teeth so bare that Quinn can't help but feel anything other than welcome. Rachel scans her eyes over Quinn, like she's looking at an old toy (fondly, and with a sense of trepidation) before her eyes land on Quinn's cane.

Rachel's smile fades and Quinn decides that today is the day her cane lets her down, and what a day for her cane to decide to betray her. Instead of letting her slip, her cane was letting her _fall_.

Quinn waves flimsily. "It's not as bad as it looks," she says, hoping to break Rachel's concentration. "The fall is a killer, ya know?"

Rachel continues to gaze at her while Quinn shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. This isn't the day for mistakes, Quinn thinks, but it isn't the day for pleasantries, either. It's been a long time since Quinn has spoken to anyone from Lima and an even longer time since she's seen anyone from her home town and she isn't much in the mood to break that record.

Quinn jerks her head to the side, her empty hand pointing behind her. "I should get going. I have class."

Quinn turns around before Rachel can get a word in and starts shoving her way through the people, eager to get as far away from this moment as she could.

Rachel seems to have other plans though because she grabs Quinn's arm (the good one, the free one) in a death grip and tugs her backwards. She isn't a fan of moving back, not now, but Rachel's hand is holding on like Quinn is a lifeboat in this strange sea and it reminds Quinn of years ago when Rachel was her lifeboat. It's dangerous, all of it is. Touching is a dangerous sport, in the same way that trusting is a dangerous choice. It leads to things that are better left unsaid-things that are better left as afterthoughts.

Remembering is dangerous because Quinn isn't that girl anymore and she doesn't think that she can be that girl again, not now.

Still, the affectionate part of Quinn can't tear herself away, so Quinn complies as Rachel pulls her to a corner that's facing away from the crowd. Rachel glances over her shoulder to make sure there's nobody specific heading their way before she turns her focus back to Quinn. Rachel licks her lips and takes a step forward, her hand still grasping Quinn's arm tightly, and it's almost too much too fast. Quinn wants to run when the reality of the situation settles, just like anyone who's seen a ghost does, but she can't and she won't.

Rachel swallows, her head shaking like she doesn't know where to start. Finally she seems to settle on something because her posture straightens and her grip loosens.

"You can't leave without saying goodbye."

Rachel states it as if it's a matter of fact, and perhaps it is, but Quinn knows it's more than that. It's _Rachel's _statement and there's a '_not again'_ mixed in between it all.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says and she hopes that Rachel knows that she means it.

Rachel looks away and Quinn thinks that this moment must appear strange to outsiders and passerby's. It probably looks oddly heavy and strangely confining to people who don't see their history, who can't remember all those years ago when Quinn Fabray left Lima behind (and everyone else with it).

"How long?" Rachel asks, her voice urgent.

Quinn has no idea what Rachel's referring to so she gives the easiest answer. "I've been in New York for two years, I transferred to NYU before my sophomore year at Yale." Quinn nervously taps her plain wooden cane on the ground and looks up towards the grey sky. "Yale didn't suit me very well."

When Quinn glances back down, Rachel's eyes are downcast, and it doesn't take much for Quinn to conclude that it's because she's crying (or about to cry). It brings back an old persona and old mannerisms faster than anything else ever could and before Quinn can stop herself, she's pulling her good arm from Rachel's grip and placing it on Rachel's shoulder.

"Shit, Rach, don't-don't cry."

Rachel lifts her head at Quinn's use of her old nickname and the look in her eyes is pure bitterness. Rachel pushes Quinn's arm off her shoulder and glares. "_Don't. _You don't get to do that, Quinn. It's been three years since we've seen each other! Three years since you..." Rachel trails off as her eyes linger on Quinn's cane. Rachel clears her throat and blinks away the tears in her eyes before continuing. "You almost _died_ and then you just _left_. Without a word to anyone. I thought...you were my best friend, Quinn!"

Quinn opens and closes her mouth pointlessly, the words refusing to come out even though they keep playing in her head. It makes sense that Rachel Berry would skip past pleasantries and call her out while standing in the bitter ass cold. Rachel has never pretended to be something that she wasn't and it impresses Quinn that even now, Rachel wouldn't try to do so. Quinn takes a step back (since that seems to be the theme of the day) and feels her back press against cold marble, it's chilling, but only for a second, and Quinn takes that as a sign to move on.

"I had to leave, Rachel. I know it doesn't makes sense now and I'm _sorry_, I _am_." Quinn emphasized when she noticed that Rachel doesn't look convinced. Quinn licks her lips and decides to just do _it_ since there was no escaping her past, not anymore. "I couldn't stay there anymore, Rach, not after the accident."

"You just left," Rachel says with a sigh. "Who just leaves without so much as a goodbye?"

Quinn looks away, her mind screaming at her that now is not the time for honesty. Perhaps it isn't, but it also isn't the time for lies. "It's easier than you think," Quinn jokes. She looks back at Rachel and winces when she notices the line forming in Rachel's forehead. "And harder than you would believe." Quinn admits, her throat going dry with the statement.

Rachel stares at Quinn, her eyes glassy. She takes a step forward before seeming to think better of it. "Okay."

Quinn puffs out her chest defensively. "Rachel, I know it doesn't make sense to you but you have to try and unde-wait, what?"

Rachel shrugs. "I said okay."

"So, _wait,_" Quinn says, her free hand gesturing in between herself and Rachel. "You're just going to let me off the hook that easy?"

"Well, not exactly," Rachel says, a tiny glint in her eyes. There's no traces of the Rachel that was just yelling at her a few moments ago, there's no tears and no sadness, and Quinn can't help but further believe that Rachel will make a great actress someday. Rachel grins and reaches for Quinn's good hand. "It's okay, for now, but on one condition."

"What?"

"You give me your number," Rachel replies easily, her hand already tugging Quinn in the opposite direction of her class. "_And_ you owe me a coffee date. Right now, actually."

"Wait," Quinn protests, her eyebrows furrowing in disagreement. "I have class."

Rachel shoots Quinn a look that somehow embodies _not now_ and _you owe me this_ and it shuts Quinn down immediately because she _does_ owe Rachel this and now _isn't _the time to protest.

"Okay," Quinn caves, her fingers slipping easily in between Rachel's. "But I draw the line at Starbuck's."

* * *

It turns out that three years is a really long time.

It's all Quinn can think after Rachel gets up to grab another tea. They're at this little cafe bakery off of fourth that Rachel chose. Quinn doesn't know if Rachel picked this place at random or if she frequents it on her cold mornings or tough days. Either way, she can't stop herself from picturing it and it's strange that she never had these curious q's before and now that Rachel's in her sight and in her mind, so is everything else that could possibly come with it.

Rachel grabbed her second tea and maneuvered her way back to their corner table, both of her hands holding on tightly to her cup. Quinn just continues to stare because Rachel is still so _Rachel_. Is it possible for things to change while still staying the same? Rachel looks like her Rachel and it's impossible not to remember the girl from three years ago who befriended her when she was all alone.

"Fuck," Rachel curses as she sits down, her tea spilling over the rim and landing on Rachel's hands. Rachel puts her cup down and grabs a napkin, quickly wiping the mess away. It throws Quinn off balance to hear Rachel curse because that is certainly new and certainly not something Rachel (gold star) Berry would have said back in high school.

It's another reminder that three years is a _really _long time.

"Sorry," Rachel apologizes, suddenly aware of Quinn's quiet staring.

Quinn shakes her head slowly. "Don't be, I'm just admiring the fact that the Rachel Berry curses now."

She means it as a joke but it's clear that it doesn't come across that way. Quinn doesn't understand it, maybe it's the years that sit in between them or the fact that Quinn left Rachel behind. Maybe it's the memories they missed out on or the fact that Rachel is overwhelmed by everything that's hitting her in this moment. Either way, Rachel is _angry_ and it shows in a very non-Rachel way.

"It's no different than the fact that you now have a cane. Things change."

It's a low blow and it makes Quinn withdraw quickly, her hands fumbling into her lap. Rachel notices the shift in Quinn's demeanor and lowers her head in shame.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," Rachel says. "I didn't mean that...it's just, so many things are different now."

"I know." Quinn agrees.

"I-" Rachel tries, she inhales a lungful of air and places her hands flat on the table beside her tea. "I really missed you, you know? And it's hard because I had to accept that I would just always miss you since we haven't been in contact in _years_. But here you are, in the flesh! And it's just-" Rachel lifts her right hand and puts it to her temple. "It's _scary_."

Quinn looks away, her gaze settling on this old couple that's seated a few feet away from them. They look happy. They look happy to be _together_ and it isn't hard to notice how Quinn hasn't been _together_ with anything or anyone since Lima. She has acquaintances, sure. And classmates and the various roommates through the years, but she doesn't have _friends_. The type of friends who promise you forever while you're sneaking into a swimming pool after curfew or the type of friend who lends you money without having to ask twice. She doesn't have the friends who wait up for her at night or the friends that text her to see how she's doing.

She gets it, believe her, she gets it. Quinn understands that she did this to herself. She was so tired of being the girl who was picked second that she chose to be the girl who wasn't picked at all and it made things easy, at least for awhile. It's easy to get caught up in just living. She spent so long focusing on the day-to-day moments of life that literally years had passed her by (along with memories of teenage love, and even worse, teenage angst).

There was a point years ago when Quinn had genuinely missed Rachel and Lima. There were weeks on end at the beginning where Quinn would just ache for Santana...but time is the greatest coping method. Not because it makes it easier to deal with things but because it makes it easier to forget. It;s easier to forget who Quinn was back them (who she used to be) when every day there's more and more distance separating her from that girl.

But it's all coming back now. The memories, the _moments_, and Quinn thinks that maybe she doesn't want to forget anymore.

Quinn wants to try. She wants to have friends again. She wants to fix whatever is broken between her and Rachel because even though she chose to leave Rachel behind, Rachel is still here sitting in front of her, years later. It has to mean something. In a city filled with millions of people, what are the chances that years later she'd run into an old memory? She's not a big believer in fate (not anymore) but she's not a big believer in plain old coincidence either, and Quinn thinks that it'll be nice, to believe in something again.

"Let's try again," Quinn says abruptly, causing Rachel's body to jerk and her eyes to meet Quinn's in confusion. "Let's try this again."

"What are you talking about?"

Quinn shrugs, not really certain herself, and places her hands over Rachel's. "I want to try being friends again, okay? Because, well, because I've been an idiot and NY gets lonely in the fall and we're both sitting here years later when I was absolutely certain that we wouldn't be. We're both different here, but kind of still the same, and I just think that we should try. Can we try, Rachel?"

Rachel licks her lips as she processes Quinn's question. It wasn't the most eloquent of speeches, of that Quinn was sure, but she could hardly make sense of the situation, let alone her words! Rachel's eyes twinkle in the way that they used to and her hands move underneath Quinn's.

"Yes," Rachel says, clearly pleased. "Yes, I would most certainly like that."

* * *

Quinn doesn't regret that day in the coffee shop, not even eight weeks later when Rachel's ringtone is blasting right next to her ear and Quinn is pulling away so quickly that she can't stop herself from falling out of bed.

She lands on the floor with the most ungraceful _thump_ and groans when her barely covered behind makes contact with her freezing floor.

Still, Quinn reaches for the phone, her body as eager as her mind to speak to Rachel. After their coffee date, they had parted with promises of keeping in touch and this time both of them had done their darndest to keep said promises.

It's nice, Quinn thinks, to actually feel like she has a friend again.

Mostly they've just met for coffee and had takeout at Quinn's apartment a few times, but it's still nice. They're past the awkward stage where every sentence has the ability to cross a boundary that didn't exist years ago. Things are good and Quinn is really happy.

"Hello?" Quinn answers in a rush.

"Quinn!" Rachel yells. She's so loud that Quinn has to pull her phone away from her ear for a moment. "Quinn! Are you there?!"

Quinn laughs. "Yes, Rachel! I'm here."

"Oh," Rachel says quietly. "Whatcha doing?"

Quinn lifted her eyes up and glanced at her clock. She almost huffed in irritation when she saw that it was nearing six am. Of course Rachel would call her to "chat" in the dead of fucking night.

"Rachel," Quinn begins carefully. "Are you drunk?"

"Psssh," Rachel overexaggerates. "Of course not. Can't a girl call her old and new-well, recently acquainted onetime best friend? I am aghast that you'd suggest that I would be anything other tha-oh! Vegan friendly cupcakes!"

Quinn has to strain her ears just to make sure Rachel is still on the line. All she can hear though is Rachel 'oohing' and 'aahing' followed by what she can only assume is the sound of Rachel stuffing her face

"What were we talking about again?" Rachel asks when she's finally had enough cupcakes. "Was it tigers? I have a feeling we'd be talking about tigers."

"Rachel," Quinn says in between her laughter. "It's late, aren't you worried about school?"

Rachel's in her Senior year at NYADA, and even though she's a shoe-in to graduate at the top of her class, Rachel isn't the type to slack off.

"My roommates thought I needed to loosen up, so I did!"

Quinn laughs again. "Ah, the mysterious roommates," she says. It's been eight weeks and all Quinn has heard about Rachel's roommates is that they exist. Rachel never goes into detail and Quinn still has yet to meet them. At first she was suspicious but then she spoke to Frannie about it and Frannie had said that Rachel was probably still wary because of Quinn's actions years ago. It made sense that Rachel didn't trust her completely, especially since it hasn't been more than two months since they've re-connected. So she's decided to just wait it out. "How are these mysterious roommates?"

"Mysterious," Rachel answers, her tone playful. "Quinn, I love you."

It may be five in the morning and Quinn just might be lying on her hardwood floor in nothing but boy shorts, and she still might be half asleep, but there's still no way she imagined that. She loved someone once before, years ago, and that turned out horribly and Quinn doesn't want to go through that again.

But then Rachel sighs (like best friends always do) and she breathes softly, and before Quinn can say anything, Rachel continues.

"I love you because we were best friends once and apple martinis make me really affectionate," Rachel says matter-of-factly. "I love you because even though you're such an idiot...you're kind of the best friend I've always imagined I'd have, and even though your musical taste could use some work...well, I'm happy to have you back. So, yeah, I love you."

"Oh," Rachel says. "My roommate says there's a rerun of Funny Lady on. I'll talk to you later Quinn!"

Rachel hangs up as quickly as she did everything else: without a moments hesitation, leaving Quinn sitting in her bedroom with a dial tone. Quinn doesn't know what to say, she's pretty sure she's speechless. So instead of saying anything she just stays still and watches the sun rise.

She's pretty sure the sun looks differently now and Quinn can't quite put her finger on _how_.

* * *

"I look ridiculous," Quinn spits out as her eyes rake over her reflection in her full length mirror. She looks like an abomination, is all Quinn can really think. It was Rachel's idea to go to this stupid costume party that Quinn's neighbor was throwing and for some reason Rachel took that as a sign to coordinate their outfits as well as choose what they were going to be. Unfortunately for Quinn, that meant Rachel shoving her in an outfit that should have been sent back to the eighties the moment it arrived. There were bows _everywhere_ on this black dress and lots of lace and frills. Not to mention the fact that she had shoulder pads and what could only be described of as a pocket to hold her gloves.

"I think you look dashing," Rachel comments. "Like a young Princess Diana."

Quinn scoffs, her arms crossing across her chest in reflex. "Princess Diana would _never _ be caught in something with…"

"In something with what?"

"In something with so many _frills,_" Quinn hisses, her eyes narrow and her posture tight.

Rachel raises an eyebrow as if Quinn's statement alone is a challenge. "What's wrong with frills?"

Quinn huffs, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. "The problem is that nobody wears them anymore, Rachel."

"I wear them," Rachel says pointedly, "and _I_ picked out that outfit for you. So unless you want to go wearing nothing at all, you'll stop complaining."

"Wow, somewhere between high school and now, it appears you've grown a backbone," Quinn jokes, her eyebrows wiggling good naturedly.

Rachel shrugs, which is a little ridiculous to watch because she's wearing this bedazzled denim jumpsuit, and it's just the weirdest thing ever because it makes Rachel appear even more tiny and even more crazy. "Look at it this way, Quinn, you'll be so drunk in two hours that you won't even care about this little Halloween getup I've put together."

"Did I forget to mention how fantastic you are for getting us into a party that has an unlimited supply of alcohol available?"

"Yeah," Rachel says seriously, her face grave (which only really served to make her look more ridiculous). "You did."

* * *

Quinn is _plastered._

She isn't really sure how it happened, but she does know that one minute she was discussing how she thought Rachel's shortness was an advantage because it made her so darn _sneaky, _and the next minute Rachel was gone and Quinn was playing beer pong with people she barely knew (but somehow felt a camaraderie with, anyway).

She knows she should go find Rachel because that's what good friends do. If only she wasn't so drunk though, because drunk Quinn is a prideful Quinn and unfortunately for everyone else, that meant that she had plans to _destroy_ everyone in beer pong.

"Ha!" Quinn shouts as another one of her ping pong balls lands in a cup of beer. Her arch nemesis (Quinn isn't quite sure of his name, but she's sure he's her nemesis because his hair is shaggy and his smile is weird and she hates the way he says moist) groans in aggravation and reaches for the cup.

The man slams the cup down after downing it quickly and sends a glare Quinn's way. "You're eerily good at this," he says suspiciously. "For a woman."

Quinn feels her skin prickle in anger as she remembers why this man is her arch nemesis. "Listen here, Ronaldo," Quinn says curtly. "You seem to be awfully sensitive. For a man."

"My name isn't Ronaldo!" The man shouts, his perfectly coiffed hair falling into his eyes.

Quinn smiles easily. It's good to know that four years of HBIC mode hasn't disappeared overnight. Quinn makes sure to send a wicked smile in the man's direction before responding. "Listen here, McRonald, your name is whatever I want it to be. So suck up whatever lady feelings you seem to be overwhelmed with and actually make an effort to not lose to me."

Before Quinn can shoot out another insult that would have made the men back home cringe (because sometimes being bad is just too good) she feels a pair of arms encircle her waist. Her body goes rigid because it's been years since anyone has touched her, at least like this. Affectionately and with a sense of longing. It's strange and lovely and everything else it could possibly be all wrapped in one.

"I win," Rachel says into Quinn's back. She's leaning a little heavily into a Quinn and it's a sign if there ever was one, that they were both drunk.

Quinn makes sure to carefully turn in Rachel's arms, so that neither of them end up in a drunken heap on the floor. Her conclusion is only further confirmed when her eyes meet a disheveled Rachel Berry. Rachel's mascara is smeared and her hair is going in every direction possible. She smells like lemons and vodka, which can't mean anything good, and her skin is flushed a tomato red. She's so incredibly drunk that if Quinn had been more sober, she would have taken full advantage of Rachel's state by making her do something ridiculous. Instead, she just laughs and ruffles Rachel's hair affectionately. "Why are you winning?"

"Because I found you," Rachel states obviously. "Duh."

"Okay," Quinn says, suddenly feeling a lot more tired than she was moments ago. "Okay."

* * *

"Remind me again why we're walking to your apartment?" Quinn whispers-at least she hopes she's whispering-to Rachel.

Rachel stumbles over a particularly large crack in the sidewalk and Quinn has to put her arm out to steady her. When she's sure that Rachel is okay and not going to die sometime soon from her terribly high heels and incredibly long frilly dress, she pulls her arm away and continues to walk-well, incoherently move with Rachel.

"Because I have a tofurkey in my freezer and you said it would never taste as good as actual bacon, so now we're on our way to my apartment," Rachel says in one breathe. "Because I don't like being wrong." Rachel adds as an afterthought.

Quinn nods even though she's still confused. It's pretty late and their in some pretty weird costumes. And she's about ninety-eight percent sure that she's drunk because she's pretty sure she just saw Waldo a few minutes ago, and that can't be right because she spent so much of her childhood looking for him. Anyway, her only solace is that Rachel seems to live incredibly close to her. About six blocks actually, and that's another thing. How is it possible that after all these years they would end up being only six blocks away from one another?

Perhaps it's the cheap apartments and perhaps it's the fact that they're both struggling to make it on what could only be defined as a ramen budget, but it was still nice, because sometimes when Quinn wasn't caught up in letting life get the best of her...well, sometimes she likes to pretend that it is _fate_.

It helps that other people are stumbling home as well, and that they look just as ridiculous as Quinn feels. If not more so. "Oh yeah," Quinn says with a laugh. She remembers it fleetingly, how Rachel had claimed that tofurkey had tasted just as good (if not better) than actual turkey, and she remembers how she had demanded rather loudly and persistently, that Rachel prove it.

So now they were rushing back to Rachel's apartment, just so that Rachel could prove she was right. A part of Quinn was rather pleased though. It took getting Rachel incredibly drunk and challenging her for Rachel to finally take Quinn to her apartment. Quinn must admit that she was starting to get suspicious that Rachel was hiding something, because that is how Quinn operated now, always on suspicion.

She shook it off though because this is _Rachel _and Rachel is Quinn's best-well, only, friend. Quinn felt an arm wrap around her wrist and shifted her focus towards the brown building that Rachel is pointing at. She nods in a silent agreement and follows Rachel to the front door of the building. She waits while Rachel punches in a code and does her best not to giggle when Rachel does it wrong the first three times. Finally Rachel gets the door open and pushes Quinn inside, before shoving her towards the stairs. Somewhere inbetween the second floor and the fifth, Quinn thinks that they both got their second wind, because what starts as a steady climb turns into a mighty fine good time by the time they reach Rachel's door.

Rachel can't stop laughing at Quinn's attempt to twerk (she has no booty, okay, that shit is hard with no booty) when she slides her door open and Quinn laughs in response as she walks through Rachel's door.

Rachel's apartment is _big_. A lot bigger than Quinn's and it's nicely decorated in a way that makes Quinn wonder if Rachel lives with people who have money. She's about to snoop when the thought of money crosses her mind again, and suddenly Quinn just wants to twerk, so she does.

This time she doesn't burn in embarrassment when Rachel burst out in laughter that could wake a whole neighborhood. Rachel's arm is around her waist because she's laughing so hard she can barely stand, but it's nice, it's very nice. It's clear that Rachel has woken up her roommates, or at least one of them, because she hears a door open in the corner and Quinn freezes with her arms above her head (how did they get there?) In what she hopes is a sober stance.

"Shh," Quinn says with a giggle. She's doing her best to make herself and Rachel appear sober, but she's pretty sure she's failing massively. "You don't want to upset your roommates."

"Hello Quinn."

Quinn's body jerks at the sound of her name. Her heart pounds in terror as her eyes adjust to the dark. When everything clears, her heart and her mind, Quinn is left with a very clear and very snazzy vision of Kurt Hummel. The gay boy in the show choir, Quinn acknowledges randomly. She lowers her arms because Kurt is very non threatening and Quinn is already tired.

"Quinn," Rachel says, her eyes wide in panic and her hands gripping onto Quinn's arms exceptionally tight. "I can explain."

Quinn wants to laugh. Rachel Berry makes everything a dramatic affair, she thinks, before she disentangled herself from Rachel's grip and wanders her way over towards where Kurt is standing. He's watching Quinn a little too intently and his lips are pushed together in a stern line, so Quinn smiles and bumps her shoulder against Kurt's, as if to say it's okay that Rachel didn't tell her about Kurt until now. And honestly? It is okay, because Kurt isn't the worst thing around. "Why would you need to explain being roommates with Kurt Hummel? We may not have been the best of friends in high school but he's not the worst thing around." Quinn shoots Kurt a wink. Or at least she hopes it's a wink. Her drunken mind is a little befuddled. "Oh man, this one time I had a roommate who used to eat _all_ of my trail mix and then put the empty bag back int-

"Short stack, I need you to take your drunken ass to your bedroom. Along with the little yorkie you brought home. It's two am and I know you have a habit of taking in strays, but seriously, I gots to get my beauty sleep."

Quinn's smile freezes and her eyes squint in recognition. She knows that voice, she's sure of it, but there's no way that voice could be _here, _right? Quinn looks at Rachel and raises her eyebrows as if Rachel could read her mind-and maybe she _could_, because she's looking at Quinn with a worried expression and Rachel keeps jerking her head slightly to the right, like she knows that Quinn wants her to say that her assumptions are ridiculous. But then Rachel licks her lips and mouths 'I can explain' and before Quinn knows what's happening, Santana is standing in front of her and her head is spinning and it's too much.

Santana's smirk drops, She recovers quickly though, and smiles at Quinn in the way that old friends tend to acknowledge each other: often unwanted or unwarranted, and forced the whole way. Santana seems just as shocked as Quinn feels and it makes Quinn feel a little better to know that she wasn't the only person who was played this time around.

_**(You take the things you like and try to love the things you took.)**_

Santana shoots Rachel a look that screams betrayed and Kurt just continues to stand silently, like he expected this all along. Rachel's eyes never leave Quinn's and it upsets her. Her drunken mind might be boggled and this might be too much to handle, but she knows that something is wrong here.

Rachel _lied._ To _her_. Is her first thought.

Santana is her second thought, and every thought after that. Suddenly, the realization that Santana is standing a few feet away from her after all these years, hits Quinn, and it's overwhelming.

_Santana,_ she thinks. _Beautiful Santana._

_Fate_, she remembers. _Is a cruel thing._

_**(**__**the development of events beyond a person's control)**_

It's hard to explain because Quinn hasn't felt something this unspeakable in years. She doesn't know what to do first, really. She wants to yell at Rachel, for blindsiding Quinn worse than that car did all those years ago. And she wants to hit Kurt, for standing there so quietly when clearly this moment shouldn't be a quiet one, and she wants to touch Santana, just to make sure that she's real. To prove to herself that she didn't imagine _it_ all those years ago.

Instead, she _cries_, and it's the worst and very last thing she ever thought she'd do.

Rachel whimpers in response and Santana huffs in irritation and Kurt just sighs, and suddenly, this moment is running as long as the sentences in her head and Quinn just really wants them both to end so that she can wrap her mind around _something_.

She turns around quickly and reaches for what she hopes is the door, her vision is blurred by the tears in her eyes and her heart is beating so loudly that she can't even hear anything but her own thoughts. She reaches the handle before anyone can protest and wrenches the door open. She stumbles her way outside while hoping that this is all just be bad dream

Quinn hopes it's just a bad dream.

* * *

Quinn makes it thirteen steps outside of Rachel's building before she feels a hand wrap around her wrist and tug her back.

"No," Quinn says adamantly. "_No_."

She's never been a fan of going backwards because it only leads to mixed emotions. She remembers the girl she used to be, the one who held onto Santana's every word, the one who sat alone at her grandmother's funeral. Quinn remembers that girl and she doesn't ever want to be her again.

She makes an attempt to push forward but Rachel is freaky strong and she tugs Quinn back, just like she did all those months ago, just like she did moments ago.

"Listen, Quinn, I know you're upset and I'm really sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner."

"Upset?" Quinn repeats. "No, Rachel. I'm _seething_."

"I get that," Rachel says quickly, her eyes watering with unshed tears. She looks sad in this moment, and incredibly small. "I understand. I just...I was going to tell you."

"When?" Quinn asks forcefully. "Years later? I mean, it's been over two months, Rachel!"

"I know," Rachel responds. "I know! I had honestly planned to tell you right after we had coffee, but…"

"But what? Why didn't you?" Quinn asks. "You didn't think I had a right to know that you're living with my ex best friend? Old best friend. Friend of olden times. Whatever!"

"No!" Rachel exclaims, her hand letting go of Quinn's as fresh tears roll down her face. Rachel wipes at them half heartedly, her face scrunching up in anguish. "It's not like that!"

Quinn felt the heat rise to the top f her head as she tried to simmer her anger. It didn't work though, and Quinn felt the tips of her ears get red as she towered over Rachel. "Then what, huh? Explain to me how you're supposed to be my best friend but you've been keeping this…" Quinn can't even say it out loud, she can't admit to herself what it was all those years ago, or what she's feeling now. Saying things gives them power and she's already relying on a cane to do the hard work for her, she doesn't need to give anything else power. Not now. "Is this some sort of sick joke to you?" Quinn asks finally, completely out of reasons that could justify Rachel's secrecy.

"No! I just-" Rachel says, completely at a loss. She lifts her shoulders in a half shrug. "I wanted you all to myself, okay?"

Quinn blinks twice in confusion. She assumes it's the alcohol that's making her hear things. "What?"

"Why did you leave?" Rachel asks out of nowhere instead of answering Quinn's question.

Quinn staggers as if she's been hit right out of left field, and maybe she has, maybe that's why she feels so unbalanced again. "Huh?"

"Why did you leave?" Rachel asks again.

Quinn throws her hands up in exasperation, the frills on her dress flying up with her arms. "I don't know! Because sometimes going away is easier than staying?"

"No," Rachel disagrees before clarifying. "Why did you leave _me_?"

It's a question that Quinn has thought about before, albeit in a completely different scenario. In her imagination, she was always the one asking the question and it has never occurred to her until now that she was also guilty of leaving somebody behind.

Quinn remembers now, clearly than she did months ago, and it's crazy how memory works. How it recalls memories that she couldn't even focus on all those years ago, but now she's remembering them with a frightening clarity. Quinn _remembers_. She remembers Rachel coming to her house everyday after her grandma's funeral. She remembers the atrocious sweaters and the shy smiles and how Rachel was the first one to actually make her laugh in a long time.

She remembers late night phone calls and Rachel telling Quinn that she's the only friend she's ever really had, but that she's grateful to have one great friend instead of many good ones. It hits her hard, like a stab to the heart, to remember the promises she made back then. It's hard to stand in front of Rachel and recall a reason as to why she broke them. Why she stopped returning her calls, why she left town without so much as a goodbye, why she changed her number and ignored all the letters until eventually she didn't think about Lima anymore.

Friends are tricky things, Quinn reminds herself, they've always been touchy ground for her. She spent so long toying with the line between friendship that she had never had time to clearly define it. Quinn had spent so long giving things to Santana that for once, all she had wanted to do was take. And maybe that's why it's hard to look back on her actions as a teenager and not feel guilty, maybe that's why it hurts to see Rachel standing in front of her with a heavy heart, like she was the one who just turned Rachel's life upside down instead of the other way around. Maybe that's why she has to look away, because she's never been good at these sorts of things and she doesn't know how to start now.

**(THIS IS HOW IT WORKS.)**

"I hate her," Quinn admits, because a half truth is better than a whole one. "That's why I left." Quinn clarifies. "Because I hate _her_ and I didn't want to be _her._"

Rachel stares at Quinn, her eyes no longer moist and her hands trembling at her side. "I don't understand."

"Yeah," Quinn agrees solemnly. "You don't."

* * *

Quinn ends up telling Rachel that she just needs time because she doesn't want to leave their friendship how she left it all those years ago. But it turns out that time isn't what it used to be, it doesn't heal all wounds and it doesn't make things easier any more. She feels betrayed in a sense, like this is her payback for wanting to _try_.

She spends the first eleven days perfecting her daily routine. She wakes up and goes for a walk, eats breakfast, showers, goes to class, goes to the library, comes home, watches The Office on Netflix, has dinner, and goes to bed. She spends the first eleven days doing just that because it's simple and easy.

But then she wakes up on that twelfth day and she remembers that she needs her drama book from last year. So she goes searching through her tubs of old books and accidentally stumbles across a photo album from high school. She opens it, and then she remembers why she was trying to forget.

It hits her, _hard_, in the pit of her stomach and in the middle of her heart and all she can do is wish for it to go away.

She thinks about her grandma sometimes and when she does, the ache in her heart only grows. She tries to remember the good things but as she's gotten older the memories have gotten more and more blurry so that most of what remains is the bad.

It makes her sad that her grandma died never knowing who Quinn was, and it hurts her to know that when her grandma finally passed, she passed away alone and in some home where nobody really cared about her or who she used to be. It makes it worse that Quinn had loved her and that even when she didn't want to love her grandma anymore (when things were hard and seeing grandma Lucy was rough) she couldn't stop herself.

Her grandma had been so adamant about love, all those years ago. She used to tell stories where there was always a happy ending because love was the best thing around. Quinn slams her hand down on the table unconsciously, her mind hurting.

It all feels like _lies_ that she can't run away from. Because her grandma forgot to mention all those years ago that sometimes the people you love leave you behind and there's really nothing you can do about it.

* * *

On day thirty seven she finally answers one of Rachel's calls. Perhaps she's in the Christmas spirit, perhaps she's tired of none of this making sense, she doesn't really know, but she still answers.

"Yeah?"

"Quinn!" Rachel yells in surprise and Quinn can hear commotion in the background. She hears some shuffling before Rachel shouts, "No, I will not give you the phone even when you use brute force!" Rachel's sentence is followed by a short silence before Rachel's voice filters back thru the phone, breathless and slightly anxious. "Quinn?"

"I'm here," Quinn says, because she is this time around.

"Okay," Rachel says in relief. "Okay...Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Rachel breathes. "I'm so, so very sorry."

In a way, Quinn is just tired, in another way, she's just curious. Either way, she doesn't have it in her to deal with this right now. She's done some things and now Rachel has done some things and maybe that's okay, as long as they try and get past it because truthfully? Quinn doesn't have anyone else, and she doesn't want to be alone. She doesn't want to end up like grandma Lucy.

So Quinn lies.

"It's okay," she says.

(It wasn't.)

"I'm not worried."

(She was.)

"This doesn't change anything."

(It changes everything.)

* * *

Rachel invites her over for Christmas two weeks later. Things are still...tentative at best, but it's between Rachel's or going home for Christmas, so Quinn picks the lesser of two evils. Rachel promises that it won't be weird but Quinn can't see how it would be anything other than weird.

Quinn picks up three boxes of wine on her way to the party. Even though she's going it doesn't mean she has to be sober for the event, so Quinn makes sure to bring enough wine to make everyone a little tipsy.

Quinn arrives thirty minutes late because she's torn between knocking on the door or just going back home. It turns out that she doesn't have to make a decision because the door ends up flying open and a body comes hurling out at her.

It takes her a moment to recognize that the blonde hair belongs to Brittany and that she's hugging Quinn like they've always been best friends. It irks her and this familiar feeling settles at the pit of her stomach.

"Quit squeezing her, Britt, she's not a teddy bear." A voice calls from the inside.

Brittany promptly lets go and when she does the air comes rushing back into Quinn's lungs. Quinn sends Brittany a shaky smile as Brittany grabs the bags at Quinn's feet and she follows Brittany in, her skin prickling in jealousy as she watched Brittany float through Rachel's apartment effortlessly and without any confusion.

It's clear that Quinn doesn't fit in here and it's even more clear that she doesn't want to stay, but Rachel is glancing at her nervously from the kitchen and Quinn decides that it's time she actually give something a go.

"I'll take a glass of wine, Rachel," Quinn hesitates. "Actually, make that two."

* * *

"So then he sends me this text like a week later, " Kurt says as he looks at his boyfriend-Blaine, his name is Blaine-lovingly. "And it says, 'I hunger without you'."

Quinn laughs along with everyone else, her buzz already working wonders. She was seated at a table with Brittany, Santana, Kurt, Blaine, Rachel, this guy in a wheelchair, and another man she hardly knew. It was good because Santana was seated on one side of the table and Quinn was seated on the other, and besides the long glances that Santana kept sending her, there was hardly any contact between the two of them. Quinn prefers it that way.

Blaine's cheeks tinted in embarrassment. He half smiled as he placed his hand on Kurt's knee. "Well, it's true. I do hunger without you."

"For a gay man, you're a very bad cook. It surprises me."

"Not all gay men are good at homely duties," Blaine says while rolling his eyes playfully.

Brittany nods. "Santana tried to fix my sink once. And then she broke it...and my dishwasher."

Santana smiles tightly as Quinn does her best to reel in the jealousy that keeps trying to make itself known. It's been years, she knows that, but a part of her can't let go of the fact that Brittany is the reason she came here alone. Brittany is the reason she hasn't seen anyone from Lima in years. Everyone laughs and Quinn watches as the man in the wheelchair grabs Brittany's hand and squeezes it affectionately.

It soothes the green little monster quicker than anything else could have and Santana's half smile that she shoots her way gets rid of the rest.

When she looks away Rachel is smiling at her and Quinn does her best to smile back.

* * *

Overall, dinner isn't awful. None of it is. It could help that she's had about nine glasses of wine and it could help that Blaine is the cutest thing to ever hit the gay scene since grumpy cat in a unicorn costume. Still, Quinn has had too much alcohol and it's making her extremely warm so she decides to step outside. It doesn't help that Rachel's apartment is covered head to toe in twinkle Christmas lights like she's trying to make up for everything with pure Christmas spirit), but that's neither here nor there.

She's standing outside watching the snow fall to the ground when the window opens behind her. She doesn't turn around because New York is such a beautiful sight to see, even when it looks lonely, and it's always nice to have something in common with the city you live in.

"It's been awhile." Quinn hears Santana say behind her, and she closes her eyes in response. She doesn't say anything and that prompts Santana to move closer. "Quinn?"

"No." Quinn answers sternly.

Santana sighs but doesn't move. "Look, I know this is weird or whatever but-look, I'm sorry…" Santana trails off before clearing her throat. She places her hands next to Quinn's and sighs again. "For a lot of things, actually. I just-back then I was…"

"What?" Quinn asks, genuinely curious. She's never understood Santana or the decisions that she makes, and she want to know. Quinn wants to know how Santana could just leave her behind like she was nothing.

And that's what it is, isn't it? Santana treated her like nothing for so long that Quinn had started to believe it. Quinn wants to hit her but she also wants to hug her and she's torn between her heart and her head.

Santana drums her fingers against the railing. "Things were changing," Santana says softly. "You were different, but I was still the same, and, well, I didn't want things to change back then. But nothing with you felt easy anymore. I couldn't...I couldn't handle any of it, so I figured if I just left it all behind that things would get easier."

Santana looks beautiful-she's always looked beautiful-and it makes Quinn feel as though no time has passed. Santana's standing in front of her after all these years and she just...how is it possible to still feel this way? As if her life was ending and starting over all at once? How is it possible for Santana to reappear in her life, for Santana to still be beautiful, for Quinn to still feel this way, for Quinn to want to forgive her? How is it possible to not _see_ how this is going to royally fuck her up?

She knows she's older, but she feels seventeen all over again. Seeing danger and running straight towards it anyway.

"Did it?"

"No," Santana says honestly. "No it didn't."

* * *

Rachel invites Quinn over again on New Years Eve and this time Quinn is more prepared to say yes. She knows what a night like this will entail, and even though she isn't really friends with any of the people, she is working on it. Work is hard and the evening will probably be hard, but at least Quinn is trying. At least she isn't running away.

She only gets two boxes of wine this time and when Brittany opens the door in an elf costume, this time Quinn laughs. She sees bits and pieces of it now, Brittany's carefree attitude and how she made it easier to escape. She can see the pieces that drew Santana to Brittany now, and even though it doesn't make things better, it does make them easier to handle.

Brittany grabs the boxes of wine from Quinn while doing a little elf dance. Quinn follows her in this time before letting Kurt grab her hand and drag her towards the living room. Everyone (Kurt, Blaine, Rachel, Santana, guy in the wheelchair who she still doesn't know the name of) is on the floor sitting around a few bottles of Tequila. She eyes the liquor and grimaces, already knowing where this is leading.

"So," Kurt says as he plops down next to Blaine. "The game is-

"Truth or Dare," Quinn finishes, her eyes catching Santana's.

"Yeah, exactly!" Kurt exclaims. "How'd you know?"

"Santana plus Tequila," Quinn answers simply. She gives Rachel a smile and reaches for the bottle, her heart already set on winning. "Let's get this game started."

* * *

"Okay, okay!" Rachel yells over all the giggling. "I cried during one Sarah Mclachlan commercial! You cannot laugh at me for that, it was an emotional time."

"Yeah, an emotional time to be you," Santana cackles.

Rachel glares at Quinn, her eyes narrow and her lips set. "Quinn Fabray, prepare for payback!"

"Oh, I'm shaking in my thrift store bought Uggs," Quinn quips, mostly because of the alcohol and also because she's always wanted to say that.

"Fine," Rachel huffs. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," Quinn answers easily.

"Who was your first kiss?"

Quinn doesn't mean to look directly at Santana, but she does, and suddenly she's a teenager all over again. Her whole body feels warm and she's not certain if it's the alcohol anymore. "Um," Quinn says before looking away. "Finn?" She lies.

It's the first time she's ever had to take a shot for _lying_ but it's worth it when her eye catches Santana's and Santana smiles like it'll always be their little secret.

"Santana!" Rachel yells. "Your turn!"

Santana rolls her eyes and smirks. "Truth, Short Stack."

Rachel bristles at the use of Santana's nickname. "Fine. Have you ever been in love?"

This time Santana avoids everyone's gaze and stares directly at the ground. "Yeah," Santana says, her voice thick. "Yeah, I have."

* * *

A few hours later she runs into Brittany on her way to the bathroom. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's because she's still curious but she doesn't have the heart to ask. Maybe it's because this is the first time she's been close to Santana in _years. _Either way she's stopping Brittany in the hallway and holding her still.

"Do you ever think about what would have happened if you..._two,_" Quinn insinuates, "had stayed together?"

Brittany shrugs carelessly and her elf hat bobs with her head. "It doesn't really matter."

"Why?"

"Because I think about a lot of things," Brittany answers.

* * *

The ball dropping in New York is still a wonderful sight to behold, even while drunk in and even while miles away. It feels magical and Quinn feels like how you ring in the new year is how you spend it.

Maybe she's meant to finally spend her life with other people, maybe new opportunities will hit her this year. Maybe she should really stop saying MAYBE.

She's out on Rachel's fire escape again, this time less drunk and more cold, when Santana steps up beside her.

"Rachel is a weird drunk that constantly wants to shuffle," Santana complains, and Quinn laughs because she can totally picture it.

"She's a good time though."

"Yeah," Santana agrees. She hears the three minute call out from inside and Quinn contemplates going in before settling on staying outside a little longer. She hopes Santana would let this be an easy moment. "Don't be mad at her."

Clearly she was wrong to hope. "I'm not."

"You are," Santana says before turning towards Quinn. She stares at Quinn fondly and it makes Quinn shiver. "But that's okay, because I am too."

"You're not making sense," Quinn says, irritably.

"I just don't like it when you frown," Santana says, changing the subject. Quinn shivers again. She hears Rachel call out the two minute warning and is about to tell Santana to just go inside, because this moment is strange enough without her interrupting it, but then Santana takes off her coat and places it over Quinn's shoulders and Quinn can't speak.

It's just like Santana, to do something Quinn didn't ask her to, to take care of Quinn without needing to be asked. Quinn turns towards Santana and watches as Santana looks out towards where the ball should be. Santana's skin is glowing, even though it's freezing. She's wearing a little black dress and flats and it's completely unnecessary but also the best thing Quinn has ever seen.

"She tries really hard," Santana says. "And she really loves you."

"I know," Quinn says, because she does. She does know that Rachel is trying and she does know that Rachel means well. Sometimes that isn't enough though. Sometimes good people do bad things and it doesn't make it okay just because they're good people. Sometimes actions _hurt_ and there is no way around it.

"I went to visit you," Santana says quietly and it throws Quinn off guard.

She licks her lips and leans in just to make sure she heard Santana right. "What?"

"I went to visit you during your sophomore year," Santana repeats. "I bought a train ticket and I wrote you a letter and I got on that stupid ass train to New Haven. I had a plan, you know, to be your best friend again and I thought it was _golden_ because I was nineteen and things make sense when you're nineteen."

"I…" Quinn trails off because she's at a loss.

"I got there and looked you up, you know. I was really excited to see you because it had been _years_ Quinn. Years since we stopped speaking, a year since your grandma and the...the accident. I wanted to see you and make sure you were alive, and okay, and still _my _Quinn."

"Don't," Quinn says, her heart already aching in a way that she didn't like. "Please don't."

"But then I got to the dorms," Santana continues, ignoring Quinn's request. "And you know what? You weren't registered. Your TA said you weren't a student anymore. You just _left_, Quinn, without telling anyone. You were just..._gone_ and it was hard for me because I had spent so long telling myself that everything was fine because I always knew where you were. I would always have time to fix what I broke. But you left and you changed things and I was really alone."

"You had Brittany," Quinn says weakly.

Rachel shouts out the one minute warning from inside and Quinn feels the anticipation bury itself in her throat.

"No," Santana disagrees. "By that time Brittany had Artie and Kurt had Blaine and I was supposed to have…" Santana looks up to the sky and gestures wildly with her hands. "Two years is a long time to think you're not going to see someone. We used to be best friends."

"We used to be," Quinn repeats.

Santana nods, her hair falling over her shoulders in a way that made Quinn just want to pull her close. "I used to pour laxative and Finnocence's hot chocolate for you."

Quinn laughs. "I remember."

"I changed the practice fire alarms for you so that we could sneak out and have a Taco Bell run," Santana says wistfully.

"You did," Quinn agrees, her mind fogging with all the nostalgic memories.

"I just can't believe you're here."

Quinn sighs and does her best to not sound disappointed. What she was expecting, she doesn't really know, but it has to be too early and too soon to hear any of this. She's still adjusting to a life with Santana and others, she doesn't think she can handle much more. "Me neither."

Quinn hears Rachel hit twenty seconds in her countdown and she grips the railing tighter. She feels like she's stuck somewhere in between the girl she used to be and the girl she wants to be and she has no idea how to get moving. She's caught in the heartaches from years ago and somehow they've left her stranded, they've put her behind, and she doesn't know if she'll ever be quite where she wants to.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

She expects Santana to ask her if she wants to go back inside, considering Rachel just hit ten seconds in the countdown, but instead she feels something that confuses her altogether. Santana puts her finger underneath Quinn's chin, just like she did all those years ago, and tilts Quinn's head towards her. Quinn's breath catches in her throat.

Santana leans in and Quinn wants to pull away, but she's doesn't. Instead she closes her eyes and braces herself. It's an all too familiar feeling, the waiting, but she does it anyway because this time she _knows_ there's something she wants coming. At least she hopes there is.

It's cliche, but when Santana's lips touch hers this time, Quinn doesn't forget about just anything, she forgets about everything and all she can see, hear, feel, and taste is Santana. It shouldn't be like this _now. _It shouldn't be like this years later when Quinn is barely the girl she used to be and Santana isn't the girl she loved.

Santana's warm, she's always warm when Quinn is cold, and her lips are soft even though Quinn's are hard. It's a peck, really, but then Santana steps closer and Quinn's hands a finding their way into Santana's hair and there's tongues and teeth and everything else Quinn used to dream about.

Quinn doesn't really have time to think anything of it because just as quickly as it starts, it's over, and Santana's climbing back into Rachel's apartment.

"Happy New Year, Quinn." Santana calls over her shoulder and Quinn raises her fingers to her lips, just to make sure the tingling on her mouth isn't from the cold.

She realizes that the worst thing that could ever happened is _happening_ and it shoots her like an arrow through the heart.

She still loves Santana Lopez.


End file.
